ACT I

_Juno_ [_in soliloquy_]: Lo I, the sister of the Thunderer (For, save this name alone, I've nothing more), Have left my lord, so often false to me, Have left, in widowhood, the realms of heaven, And, banished from the sky, have given place Unto my hated rivals. Now must earth 5 Be my abode, while they in heaven reign. Behold, the Bear, far in the frozen north, Is set on high to guide the Argive ships; Behold, in southern skies, where days grow long Beneath the warmth of spring, the Bull shines bright, Who once the Tyrian Europa bore. There gleam the wandering Atlantides, 10 A fearful band for ships and sea alike; And yonder fierce Orion with his sword The very gods affrights; his stars, as well, The golden Perseus boasts; while Leda's sons With shining banners glitter in the sky; And they, Latona's children, for whose birth 15 The floating land stood firm. And not alone Have Bacchus and his mother gained the heavens; But, that the infamy may be complete, The skies must needs the Cretan maiden's crown Endure. But these are ancient wrongs I tell: One wild and baneful land alone is full Of shameless mistresses--the Theban land, 20 Which all too oft has me a stepdame made. And though Alcmena scale the heights of heaven, And hold my place, victorious over me; And though her son his promised star obtain (Whose hateful getting cost the world a day, Since Phoebus, bidden to hold his shining car 25 In Ocean hid, with tardy light shone forth From eastern seas): still ever in my heart Shall hate relentless dwell. Undying wrath My outraged soul shall kindle; and my grief, All hope of truce denying, endless wars Shall fiercely wage. But what avail my wars? 30 Whatever savage things the hurtful earth, The sea or air produce, terrific shapes, Fierce, pestilential, horrible, and dire, The power of all is broken and subdued. Alcides towers above and thrives on woe; My wrath is his delight, and to his praise He turns my deadly hate. While I, too stern, 35 Impose his dreadful tasks, I do but prove His origin, and opportunity For glorious achievement render him. Where Phoebus with his neighboring torch illumes The east and western shores of Aethiop's land, Alcides' dauntless courage is adored; While all the world considers him a god. And now have I no monsters more to send; 40 And less his toil to do the tasks I bid, Than mine to set them. Joyfully he hears My several commands. But what dire tasks The tyrant may conceive can harm that youth Impetuous? His very arms, forsooth, Are torn from monsters which he feared--and slew; 45 With spoils of lion and of hydra armed, He walks abroad. Nor are the lands of earth Enough for him: behold, the doors of Dis Are burst, and to the upper world he brings The booty taken from the vanquished king. 'Tis not enough that he returns alive: The law that binds the shades is set at naught. Myself I saw him, when he had o'ercome 50 The king of hades and escaped the night Of that deep underworld, display to Jove The spoils of Dis. But why does he not lead, Oppressed and overcome, the king himself Who gained by lot an equal realm with Jove? Why rules he not in conquered Erebus? Why bares he not the Styx? His upward way From deepest hell to earth he has retraced, 55 And all the sacred mysteries of death Lie open to the world. Not yet content, And proud that he has burst the bars of night, He triumphs over me, and, insolent, He leads through all the cities of the land That gruesome dog of hell. I saw, myself, The daylight pale at sight of Cerberus, 60 The sun start in affright. Nay, even I Was struck with terror; and, as I beheld That triple-headed beast in bondage led, I trembled at the thought that 'twas my will. But all too trivial ills do I lament; My fears must be aroused for heaven itself, Lest he who overcame the lowest depths Should scale the very skies, and from his sire 65 His scepter snatch away. Nor to the stars Will he, like Bacchus, by an easy path Ascend; through ruin would he make his way, And wish to rule an empty universe. He is inflamed with pride of tested strength; But he has learned by bearing up the heavens, That by his power the heavens can be subdued. 70 Upon his head he bore the universe, Nor did his shoulders bend beneath the weight Of that stupendous mass; the vault of heaven Upon his neck was poised, and steadily He bore the expanse of sky, the shining stars; And even me, down pressing, he endured. He seeks a place among the immortal gods. Then up, arouse thee to destructive wrath, 75 Destroy him meditating plans so great. Meet him in single strife; with thine own hands Asunder rend him. Why thy mighty hate Dost thou consign to others to appease? Enough of monsters; let Eurystheus rest, All weary with imposing thy commands. Though thou shouldst open wide Sicilia's vaults, And free the Titans who essayed to wrench 80 The scepter from the hand of mighty Jove; Though the Doric isle, which trembles with affright Whene'er the heaving giant turns himself, Should ease her weight upon the monster's head; Though in the moon another race of beasts Should be conceived: yet all of these, I know Alcides conquered and will conquer still. Seek'st thou his match? There is none save himself. 85 Then set him on to war against himself; Let furies from the lowest depths of hell Be roused and come to aid, their flaming locks Aglow with maddening fire, their savage hands The horrid snaky scourges brandishing. Go now, thou proud one, seek the seats of heaven, And scorn the lot of men. And dost thou think, 90 O hero brave, that thou hast fled the Styx And gloomy shades? Here will I show thee hell; Here will I summon up the goddess dire Of Discord, deep in darkness thick confined Far down below the abode of guilty souls. A cavern huge within a mountain's hold Is her dark prison. Her will I call forth, 95 And from the deepest realms of Dis bring up Whate'er thou hast escaped: base Crime shall come; Impiety that fiercely stains its hands In kindred blood; the shape of Error, too, And Fury ever armed against itself. This, this assistance shall my grief employ. Come then, ye ever-faithful slaves of Dis, 100 Begin your task. Shake high the blazing torch; And let Megaera lead her dreadful band Of sisters viperous. With deadly hand Let her from off the blazing funeral pyre A burning brand snatch up. Now to your task; Thus seek revenge for violated Styx: Distract his heart with madness; let his soul 105 More fiercely burn than that hot fire which glows On Aetna's forge. But first, that Hercules May be to madness driven, smitten through With mighty passion, I must be insane. Why rav'st thou not, O Juno? Me, Oh, me, 110 Ye sisters, first of sanity deprive, That something worthy of a stepdame's wrath I may prepare. Let all my hate be changed To favor. Now I pray that he may come To earth again, and see his sons unharmed; May he return with all his old-time strength. Now have I found a day when Hercules May help me with his strength that I deplore. 115 Now let him equally o'ercome himself And me; and let him, late escaped from death, Desire to die. Now let it profit me That he is born of Jove. I'll stand by him And nicely poise his hand, that so his darts May with more deadly aim be hurled. I'll guide The madman's arms. And so at last I help 120 Alcides in his wars. The crime complete, Then let his father to the heavens admit Those guilty hands. Now must the attack begin. The day is breaking, and with saffron light The rising sun dispels the gloom of night.

* * * * *

_Chorus:_ Now scattered and with paling light 125 The stars gleam in the sinking west; Now vanquished night collects her fires, Whose shining band at the day's return The star of morning drives away. High up in the frozen northern sky, The Arcadian Bears with their seven-fold stars, 130 Their course completed, hail the dawn. Now borne along by his azure steeds The sun looks forth from Oeta's ridge; With whose light suffused, the clustering grapes In the vineyards to Theban Bacchus dear Flush rosy red. The waning moon 135 Fades out of sight, to return again. Hard Toil awakens, at whose knock The doors of men are opened wide, And daily cares resumed. The shepherd sends his flock afield, And plucks, himself, the tender grass 140 Still sparkling with the frosty rime. The young bull sports among the fields At liberty; the dams refill Their empty udders; sportive kids Leap lightly o'er the tender grass 145 In aimless course. On the topmost branch The Thracian Philomela sings Her strident song, and near her nest Of chattering young she spreads her wings To the morning sun; while all around 150 The throng of birds with united songs Announce the day. The daring sailor spreads his sails To the freshening wind, as the breezes fill Their flapping folds. From wave-worn rocks The fisher leans and baits anew His cunning hook; he feels his line 155 A-tremble with the struggling fish, Or weighs his prize with practiced hand And eager eye. Such are the joys of him who lives 160 In tranquil and unworried peace; Whose pleasure is a humble house, His own, though small; whose simple hopes Are in the open fields.[17] But worried hopes in cities dwell, And trembling fears. There some would haunt The rich man's haughty vestibules, Wait at their proud, unfeeling doors, 165 Forego their sleep. Some heap up wealth, Though blest with boundless wealth, and gaze In admiration at their heaps; And yet, with all their gold, are poor. Some strain for the applause of men, The vulgar throng, whose fickle will Is shifting as the sea, and swell 170 With empty pride. The noisy mart Still others claim, who meanly deal In quarrelsome suits, and profit make Of wrath and empty words. Few know untroubled peace, the men Who, heeding time's swift flight, hold fast 175 The years that never will return. While fate permits, live happily; For life runs on with rapid pace, And with headlong speed the year's swift wheel 180 With winged hours is turned. The cruel sisters urge their task, Nor backward turn the threads of life. But the race of men is hurried on To meet the quick approaching fates, Uncertain of their own. Of our own will we haste to cross 185 The Stygian waves. Thou, Hercules, With heart too brave, before thy time Didst see the grieving shades. The fates In pre-established order come; And none may stay when they command, None may put off the appointed day. 190 The swiftly whirling urn of fate Contains all mortal men. Let glory then to many lands Proclaim some names, and chattering fame Through every city sing their praise, And raise them to the stars. Sublime 195 In triumph let another ride. Me let my native land conceal Within a safe and humble home. 'Tis unambitious souls who come To hoary-headed age at last. If humble, still the lot is sure Of lowly homes. Souls lifted high, 200 For this to greater depths must fall. But see, sad Megara comes with flowing hair, Her little children closely pressing round; And with her, with the tardy step of age, The sire of Hercules, Amphitryon.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Reading, _et in agris_.